


Life's Wonderful Dance

by plumedy



Category: My Fair Lady (1964)
Genre: Friendship, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Poetry, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-26
Updated: 2017-12-26
Packaged: 2019-02-19 23:44:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13134678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plumedy/pseuds/plumedy
Summary: Higgins, Pickering, and Eliza making sense out of the living situation they found themselves in. And making sense out of their emotions in the process. Entirely in verse.





	Life's Wonderful Dance

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GoggledMonkey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoggledMonkey/gifts).



> This was originally meant to be a full-sized plotty treat, but unfortunately RL happened! I hope you enjoy some snippets of what I imagine their life post-canon must be like. Merry Yuletide and happy New Year! <3

HIGGINS: Those flowers, rags, that stupid accent –

I never realized they would

Grow into someone I would cherish,

Someone I’d love as best I could.

When I said to myself, “I need her,”

“I wish she’d come, though she is free,”

In my _naïveté_ I hoped that

 _She_ grew accustomed, too, to _me_.

No matter how I try to soothe her,

To use sweet talk and verbal gilt,

I am still plagued by this strange feeling –

PICKERING: I do believe they call it “guilt”.

HIGGINS (glowering): What does she want? For me to beg her?

I do my best to get along.

She throws, like pennies at a beggar,

Those looks at me: I’m always wrong!

And, just as if she wants to spite me,

She utters not a bloody word.

PICKERING (with heavy sarcasm): By Jove, how does a fellow manage?

She wants a “sorry”. How absurd.

HIGGINS: Laugh! Laugh at me! (paces the length of the room nervously) There are things I couldn’t explain – she wouldn’t understand.

How would I even start to tell her – what would I say in my defence?

That when I said I didn’t like her, that when I called all women dense,

Said they were messy, irritating, incapable of doing good,

What I should really have asked was: “why can’t I like them _like I should_?” (voice suddenly wavers)

PICKERING: Wait… what?

HIGGINS: (in a very hostile voice) I am a homosexual and in love with you, you bloody fool.

PICKERING: Well, why didn’t you say anything before? Look what a mess you made out of your friendship with Eliza. And I can’t say I would’ve minded knowing sooner.

HIGGINS: I didn’t think I stood a chance.

PICKERING: You think of the colonies poorly, I see. I assure you all the newest sexual deviancies are delivered to us with the monthly shipment of British press. (kisses Higgins)

 

PICKERING: I can’t imagine we made Eliza’s life easier.

HIGGINS: I daresay not.

ELIZA: As long as you apologize…

ELIZA: Everyone changes –

And doesn’t, at once

In life’s wonderful dance

In all countries and ages.

You thought me a chrysalis,

An unfinished song,

But truth is, I was

Butterfly all along.

And you too have this beauty

That blossomed and grew

Though you’ll grumble and scowl

And say it’s untrue.

HIGGINS: I’m not beautiful. I’m an angry and misanthropic man.

ELIZA: See.

HIGGINS: I’m sorry.

ELIZA: Sorry for what?

HIGGINS: For being an ass.

ELIZA: (laughing) You’re sounding strangely uncouth and uncultured, Professor.

PICKERING and ELIZA (with HIGGINS joining): We’re all paintings and statues of marble,

We’re all poetry, science, and wit,

Butterflies born of primordial garble,

Stars in the moment when they were first lit.

People may tell you your accent is queer,

(HIGGINS: In more ways than one…)

People may judge you for people you choose,

(ELIZA: When you choose two bachelors, for example.)

But deep within, underneath the veneer,

Each of us is both the art and the muse.


End file.
